Spelling Errors
by Gone Is A Hot Winged Angel
Summary: Arthur Kirkland is failing English because of his foolish teacher! Now he needed to fight against her and win. Too bad another person interrupted the argument to bring more stupidity into this battle. Slight USUK


**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.**

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"You'll be getting your essays back near the end of class," my English teacher said monotonously, boring the whole class to death. If _I _was the teacher, I would at least make class more entertaining than this poor excuse of an _English _teacher. She didn't even know correct English!

You may be starting to wonder if I am one of those stupid jocks who prance around and act like they are the bosses of the entire school. Well, I prided myself as an intelligent, decent human being. However, I am failing my English class because this bloody idiot (my teacher) doesn't know real English. She seemed to think that _I_ had spelling issues when it's _her _with the spelling issues!

"...Sadly, you don't have homework tonight-" Most of class erupted into loud cheering for a few moments until the English teacher sent them a nasty glare. They quieted down except for one of them, who continued to cheer almost as loud as before. The teacher sighed, a clear sign of irritation masking her face. I smirked. I loved it when she became pissed off. "You know the drill, Gilbert."

Gilbert grinned cockily. "Stop, drop, and roll?" he quipped smugly, trying to get on her nerves. His two friends started chuckling to themselves.

"Double your time in detention," she snapped, pointing at the door. "Now go to the principal's office or I'll kick you there myself." Several people gasped dramatically at the threat.

Gilbert feigned worry. "Oh, no! Can you hold my hand on the way there?" he questioned mockingly. This time more people started to snicker at his attitude. I didn't find it very amusing, but I was thankful that it was putting off the return of our essays. It was likely that the teacher was going to give me a detention. Unfortunately for her, I wasn't planning to go down without a fight.

"Silence!" The teacher snarled at the class, who glumly stared back at her. Then she addressed Gilbert with gritted teeth, "You better get your butt out of this class in _one minute _or I'm going to call your father."

I noticed Gilbert's red eyes widen, then he grabbed his things and raced out of there like a bull was chasing him.

"That was exhausting," the teacher said with a sigh. Nobody really knew who she was talking to. "Since we wasted about ten minutes of precious time, I'll be handing out the essays. If the bell rings, you cannot go."

"But my next class is all the way across the school!" protested a soft voice. I didn't have the time to try and recognise who that was, because I felt ready to vomit in fear. I was hoping that Gilbert could distract her the rest of the time. I should have known that would be illogical to believe he could have saved my life. Stupid Gilbert.

"Tough luck, kid," the teacher answered shortly, carrying around a stack of papers. I gulped, gripping the sides of my seat. I needed to be prepared to show the teacher that I was right and she was wrong. I waited with what I _hoped_ looked like a calm expression instead of looking ready to puke.

Then she slammed my paper on my desk. "Arthur Kirkland! Can't you understand that you're making spelling errors? You're defying my knowledge once again, so I'm giving you a detention. Maybe _then _you'll understand how to spell," she hissed. Some of the immature boys shouted out, _'Burn!'_

I looked down at my paper. Of course she gave me an F just for my 'spelling errors.'

"You _do _know I'm English, right?" I said in a clipped tone. She nodded.

"I am too. What's your point, boy?" she responded harshly. I almost burst out laughing, but held in my laughter respectfully.

"No, you're not. You're American while I am from England. So I'm English," I concluded with a crooked smile.

"Don't you dare test my knowledge! You're _British_!" the teacher yelled, smacking my desk with my paper again.

"I'm classified as British too," I replied in a bored tone. "Now since you learnt something new today, would you like some more information for your _very _vast knowledge? Organised is spelled with an 's,' not a 'z.' You Americans are so infatuated with that letter."_  
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The teacher's face turned as red as a tomato when several students nearby started giggling.

One student strolled up to the teacher and me. "I guess ya learn something new every day, huh?" he asked with a charming grin, his blue eyes glittering humourously behind his glasses. I glared at him, immediately feeling more hatred for America.

"Don't they teach you anything here, or are all Americans just daft?" I snapped, raising an eyebrow.

"Lol, dude! Your eyebrows are _mountains_!" The American exclaimed, heaving himself onto my desk and sat there. "Have I met ya before?"

"Piss off," I muttered, disliking him even more. My eyebrows were perfectly fine! My mum always complimented them when she discussed physical features passed through the family. Also, who in their right mind would say 'lol' out loud?

The teacher looked annoyed to be interrupted by the American too. Finally something we had in common.

"Arthur Kirkland and Alfred Jones! Get your butts out of here and go to the principal's office! You both know the drill, and it's _not _the fire drill," the teacher announced loudly, giving up her argument with me.

I huffed in anger while Alfred whooped in delight for some odd reason. Alfred started to poke my forehead with that bloody grin on his face. "Come on, Artieee," he whined. "You're walking with me!"

I glared icily at the teacher's back, organising my textbooks and folders before I replied back to him harshly, "Firstly, my name is _Arthur,_ not that ridiculous nickname. Secondly, I'm _not _walking with you."

I started walking away, but Alfred eventually caught up. I narrowed my eyes. That boy was stubborn as hell.

"But your name is too boring," Alfred complained. "Besides, it's a free country. I can walk with ya if I want to!" He stuck his tongue out at me. _Immature brat, _I thought angrily to myself.

I said nothing in reply.

"You were hilarious back there," Alfred babbled. "I've been watching you every single time that happened. Um, I mean, I'm not stalking you or anything, but I've been observing andIthinkyouarecool and-" He took a deep, nervous breath. "Youreyesarepretty."

I raised an eyebrow, which made Alfred grin. Then I glared at him for grinning. Idiotic American; these eyebrows are _normal_!

"Repeat that, please," I responded coolly. "I can't understand what you're saying!"

Alfred sighed, running a hand through his wheat-coloured hair. "I think you're cool and your eyes are pretty. How can they be that colour of green?" he questioned in awe.

I turned bright red in embarrassment. God, if I would have known it would be like this, I would have never asked.

"Awww, Artie is blushing!" Alfred declared in a cooing tone, ruffling my blonde hair.

"Don't touch me, you git!" I yelled, yanking myself away from him and started to run. He chased after me, laughing as I shrieked.

That's how we both ended up with in-school-suspension for a day because we disrupted learning classes. Then Alfred got another day of in-school-suspension for telling the principal he had a stick up his arse. Ha, the principal was just too in-denial of that true statement.

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**The end! This is my first Hetalia story and I'm really nervous. I always wondered when I saw fics that Arthur was amazing in English, I decided to write a fic where he was failing because of his stupid teacher!**

**I wrote his POV the best I could for him to sound English, but I'M American...**

***crickets* *is scared***

**Anyway, I hoped you enjoyed my suckish story because I procrastinated on homework to do it! (I didn't edit it, so feel free to throw flames at me!)**

**-Gone**


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